Not My Homeland Anymore

Chapter 1: You Were My Town

"Is this really the right road?" The young man checked the map he'd been given again. He'd gotten off at that bus stop several miles back, then hitch-hiked as far as he could. But even hitch-hiking could only get you so far when you were trying to get to a town that, according to just about every directory he'd been able to locate, didn't exist.

But according to the roadsign he'd passed a few minutes ago, he was only about... ten miles from the location that was circled in bright red pen. So he wasn't lost... he just had a long walk ahead of him.

If only he'd still had his car... but no, that car wasn't his anymore. It was hers. After what he'd done, it was the least she deserved. And since he couldn't afford a rental, and couldn't stomach the idea of stealing another one, that left walking. A lot of walking.

Emma was right. Maybe I should have learnt how to ride a bike at some point.

If he was lucky, he'd get there before dark. Sure, he'd slept in a lot of weird places, but he was done sleeping amongst the trees. Give him a good alleyway or parking garage any day- at least urban dangers made sense.

The sky was just starting to turn pink when he reached his destination. Or, at least, almost reached it. If he'd calculated right, he should be right outside the town line.

It didn't look like the entrance to a town. In fact, when he looked down the road, it looked exactly like the road in the direction he'd come from- black tarmac cutting through a dense forest.

But something had frozen him in his tracks. Something that said do not pass beyond this point. But subtle- less DANGER, and more along the lines of absolutely nothing to see here, you should probably turn around and go back the way you came, doesn't that sound like a good idea?

(If he hadn't spent so much of his life in places seeped in magic, he might have been fooled into thinking those were his own thoughts.)

Probably that curse of August's. Trying to keep out intruders. Hard to keep people from noticing that they were trapped in a cursed town if outsiders could come and go as they pleased.

Last chance to turn back. He could still choose to go back, to forget all of this, to pretend the past few months of his life had been nothing but a bittersweet dream.

But he'd spent his whole life running. And if he was going to run now, it wouldn't be until after he'd made sure that his choice had been the right one. And the only place he could find those answers was here.

He took a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

Quickly, as if to make sure he didn't have a chance to change his mind again, he took a few steps forward.

And blinked.

The door to the restaurant jingled as it opened. The waitress at the front counter smiled brightly, hoping it masked her internal grimace.

Who could that be? It was dinnertime, but most of their regulars had either already left or were just now finishing up their meals. The landlord, maybe, come to pick up the rent early? It's not due until the day after tomorrow!

No, irritating as Gold was, he could generally be counted on to be punctual, and the misanthropic old man tended to avoid coming in during their busiest hours.

So who-?

"Hi!" She walked over to him. He looks... vaguely familiar. "Let me get you a seat, and then-"

She gasped.

"Is something wrong?" The man in front of her looked concerned. He turned his head slightly and sniffed. "I don't smell that badly, do I? Sorry, I've been walking for hours and-"

"Neal? Neal Cassidy?" The waitress said, squinting. "Oh my goodness, it is you!" She threw her arms around his neck and wrapped him in a quick hug.

"Good to see you too, uh..." The customer- Neal- scratched the back of his head. "I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"Neal, it's me. Ruby." She rolled her eyes. "What, you're gone a few years and you manage to forget all your old school friends?"

"Ruby?" Neal blinked again, then smiled. "I didn't recognize you with the," he gestured at the red streaks in her hair. "It looks good on you."

The few customers still around had started to notice the newest arrival.

"Neal?"

"He's back!"

"How've you been, boy?"

"Alright, everyone back off a little," Ruby said. "Let him sit down and get something to eat before you all mob him. Neal, you still like meatloaf, right? I'll go grab you some, on the house."

"I can pay," he argued, reaching into his bag.

"Same old Neal, huh?" she said, smirking. "Still won't touch a penny you think you haven't earned. Just consider it a 'welcome home' treat."

"If you insist," he said, sliding into an empty seat. "It's good to be home, Ruby."

Eleven Years Later

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cassidy," called a childish voice as the door opened. "Got anything new this week?"

"Afternoon, Henry," the man behind the front desk replied. "Aren't you going to ask how I'm doing before demanding to know what I can do for you?"

"Sorry, Mr. Cassidy," said the boy, ducking his head sheepishly. "How have you been? And do you have anything new in stock?"

The man laughed at the kid's shameful expression.

"You know I'm joking, Henry. I've told you before, just call me Neal- Mr. Cassidy makes me feel old." Neal bent down to get something from under his desk. "And as a matter of fact, we do have something new."

"Wait, really?" Neal doubted that the smile on Henry's face could possibly get any brighter. He wasn't surprised. The boy had been coming at least once a week (and often even more frequently, especially in the summer) for the past... actually, Neal wasn't really sure just how long Henry had been coming, but every time he came, he wanted to know if there was anything new. And this was the first time Neal could remember actually being able to answer in the affirmitive.

"Yeah, I was digging around in one of the back rooms the other day, and I found this." He held out a large brown book. Henry took it gingerly, as though afraid to damage it. Which was probably a valid concern, considering how old the book appeared to be. (Based on the amount of dust he'd had to wipe off the cover, the book had clearly been hiding back there for a while- he had no idea how he'd never noticed it before.)

"Once Upon a Time," Henry read, running his hand along the golden letters embossed on the leather cover. His smile dimmed slightly, and as he flipped through the pages, it fell further. "Aw, these are just fairy tales. Bedtime stories for kids."

"You are a kid," Neal said, reaching over to ruffle Henry's hair. "Besides, you're never too old for fairy tales."

"I guess," Henry said, unconvinced.

"Anyway, I haven't had a chance to read it yet, but I skimmed through it a little, and I can say these are definitely not your average fairy tales," said Neal, shaking his head slightly. "And there's plenty of action- I know you like that sort of thing. Lots of sword fights and epic adventures. Have I ever steered you wrong before? Just give it a chance, okay?"

"Alright," Henry said, turning the book over and lifting the back cover. "Uh, where's the card?"

"Oh, I haven't had a chance to file this one yet," Neal said. "But you've been coming here long enough- I know you always take good care of your books. I trust you."

"Really? Thanks, Mr. Cassidy," Henry said, his eyes lighting up. He quickly stuck the book in his backpack and headed for the door. "Goodbye, Mr. Cassidy!"

"It's Neal," the librarian called, but the boy was already gone.

A few hours later, Neal was still feeling guilty over what he'd done.

I had no right to loan Henry that book. These weren't his books- they belonged to the city, and part of his job was to make sure there was a careful record of all the books coming in and out of the building. He was not supposed to lend out items that didn't even exist in the library records! It was practically stealing, and his father had not raised a thief.

But he'd tried. He hadn't found any mention of such a book anywhere in the files, and the book itself had no identifying details that might help him file it. No author, or publishing date, or ISBN... he'd even tried running an internet search on the library's ancient computer, but he hadn't found anything.

Neal knew Henry wouldn't let anything happen to that book, and the look on the kid's face when he told him so had been worth a million bucks. Poor kid didn't have too many friends, and from what Neal had seen, his mother didn't seem to notice that her only child was ten and not four. He clearly wasn't used to being trusted, to being viewed as mature or responsible enough to take care of anything important.

(It wasn't that long ago that Neal had been that age- he still remembered when his father had given him his first real chores around the house, the way Pops had made him feel that little tasks like weeding the yard or hanging the clothes to dry were sacred duties he'd had to earn the right to do. It had given him a healthy respect for hard work and the value of things, while simultaneously boosting his self-esteem and making him feel like he really was growing up.)

(He may not be Henry's father, but near as he could figure, Henry spent more time in this library- around him- than with any other grown man in town. The least Neal could do was try to be a decent role model.)

So yes, maybe he'd bent the rules more than he was comfortable with. Maybe it might technically have counted as stealing. Maybe. But Henry would return the book within a few weeks, and nobody else would be any the wiser. And if anything did happen to it, Neal would pay to replace it out of his own pocket. It would all be fine.

Besides, how big of a deal could one storybook be?